The sun rose behind the icy mountains with the same vibrant aurora as dusk the previous night. Jasmine awoke to find Prince Albert missing. Stretching her stiff back and shoulders, Jasmine tiptoed to the door and peeked around the corner.

Prince Albert wasn’t missing; he was around the bend talking to a kingly man with a beard as yellow as the prince’s hair. Their tone was in rushed hushing whispers and the air of urgency seeping off of them made Jasmine feel incredibly uncomfortable. She couldn’t hear much of what they were saying, but what she did hear disturbed her.

“Father, I will not give this up. My princess must have her memory restored and I am the one who promised to do so. My quest is not yet complete,” Prince Albert was insisting in the most polite and proper voice he could muster.

Prince Albert’s father, the king, stroked his yellow beard. There was anger in his green-eyed gaze when he told the prince, “No. Your place is with your king, your father. This quest of yours is nonsense.”

“Father-”

“You shall prepare. Tonight we ride.”

Jasmine ducked back into the white-furnished room as the king brushed past Prince Albert and stalked down the hall, his royal blue robe swishing back and forth with every step. The prince stood with his head low and his fists clenched and Jasmine could hear his teeth grinding even from a yard away. When the prince returned to the white-furnished room, she didn’t know what to tell him.

She settled for, “Um. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Prince Albert said to Jasmine with a tiny smile, “I trust you slept well?” He leaned past her to pluck his fedora off the bedpost. Jasmine watched as he twiddled the feather under his thumb, a nervous motion to accompany his shaky, anxious breathing. He was getting ready to say something but couldn’t get up the nerve.

“What is it?” Jasmine asked. She decided she probably shouldn’t mention that she had been eavesdropping.

Prince Albert gave his feather one final twiddle and placed the fedora on his head. He took a breath. “My father doesn’t wish to meet you; he is very busy with the kingdom.”

Jasmine shifted her weight. The prince sighed. Jasmine couldn’t stand the suspense. She pressed, “And?”

Having been found out, Prince Albert blurted, “He wants me to ride into battle and leave you here and I don’t know if I can convince him he’s being unreasonable and I fear this war is getting to him.”

Jasmine blinked.

“I just don’t know what to do,” The prince’s fedora hid his eyes and he dropped his arms to his side in defeat.

Jasmine took a breath. A long pause suffocated the room before she opened her mouth to say, “Go on. I’ll be fine here until you get back. Okay?”

The prince’s expression pleaded forgiveness. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I wish this were different. I wish my father were reasonable. I wish you had your memory.”

“Relax,” Jasmine insisted, “It’ll be fine. Just don’t get yourself killed out there, okay?”

That seemed to perk him up a bit. Prince Albert straightened, put his fedora atop his head and smiled down at Jasmine like she was his paradise. Before he could say or do anything forward, Jasmine gave the prince a soft punch in the shoulder. He looked utterly confused.

Jasmine giggled. “Go get ‘em, Mister Prince. Ride off to battle and save the kingdom!”

With a giant grin Prince Albert nodded and marched off with the determination of someone who clearly didn’t grasp the sarcastic humor in Jasmine’s words. Nonetheless, Jasmine found herself waving him goodbye with a goofy smile plastered on her face. Even so deep in the castle (as far as she knew, anyway) Jasmine could clearly hear Swift’s pattering hoof beats coming closer. The sound halted momentarily as the prince ran out to meet his stallion, and then returned louder than ever as they galloped away to a place Jasmine could only imagine.

“Well at least he’s easy to cheer up,” Jasmine mumbled to herself.

“He is,” Mythos’ voice came from behind. Jasmine nearly jumped out of her skin. “Do not worry. The prince will return safely now that he has promised you he will.” Mythos told Jasmine.

She gave the supposed mute an uncertain nod.

“Here you are,” Mythos said and presented the brown-wrapped package in her hands to Jasmine, who took it without knowing what it was for.

Jasmine unwound the silver string that held it together and it opened to reveal cloth, of the kind Jasmine had only ever seen in stage productions. “What’s this for?”

Mythos eyed her up and down and gave Jasmine a wide-eyed incredulous look that said, “You aren’t going to keep wearing those ratty things, are you?” All that, without speaking a word; it was clear Mythos had gotten used to being a mute to anyone who was born in the kingdom. Her expressions were so exaggerated that anyone could tell what she was thinking if she wanted them to.

“Right,” Jasmine said and cleared her throat. “Guess I’ll go change then.”

It took Jasmine a half-hour to figure out how to get the dress on properly. It was an awkward wrap-around design with way to many strings to tie and made of the softest midnight blue cloth, so soft that Jasmine constantly feared ripping it. Still, once she managed to get it to fit properly it was undeniably the most comfortable dress she’d ever worn, not that she ever wore many dresses. She wondered if there was a mirror somewhere she could use; she had changed in the white-furnished room and there wasn’t one in there, but she didn’t want a repeat of the night before of getting lost in the castle until someone came to guide her.

Lucky for Jasmine, Mythos was keeping close by. The mute stood waiting by the door as Jasmine poked her head out to look for anyone who could lead her to a mirror (and possibly reassure her that she didn’t look utterly ridiculous.) Mythos extended her hand to Jasmine and together they stalked about the castle, twisting in and out of endless hallways until they reached the largest inside door Jasmine had ever seen.

The door appeared to be pure gold, engraved with mahogany vines that were painted deep blue, and two phoenix statues with their wings spread wide stood guard on each side facing inward.

“The Hall of Truth,” Mythos said, “You will find your mirrors in there.” As if on command, the door screeched open as Mythos sauntered away.

With whispering steps, Jasmine entered the doorway. The ceiling arced so high above her head she couldn’t stop herself from gazing up at it. She noticed the archway was also varnished in those spindly blue vines and they glistened as she stared up at them. She nearly tripped over the first step to the upper level of the room. The door shook and slammed closed behind her. She wondered if that was supposed to happen.

“To seek the Truth,” the room said in a voice like crackling wires and spider webs, “One must see the Lies that brought them.”

Jasmine faced the heart of the room and a gasp escaped her lips. There in front of her, with its back hooves sinking into the stone floor like claws, was Pegasus. No, Pegasus was white; this winged beast was black like dank water and stunk of oil and wax. Its presence forced Jasmine to back away like a spell, but really it was just her fear.

The black Pegasus beat its hoof, splintering the stone floor even further, and spread its wings, its neck growing long and thin to encroach on Jasmine, who gulped and stayed as rigidly still as she possibly could. Up close, its muzzle looked like any other horse muzzle, though it was much larger and proportionally twice as long. Although it had scared her before, its eyes were kind and curious. “You are not of Kingdom Albreton. You are not of any Kingdom. From where do you hail?”

Jasmine collected the scattered pieces of her voice, “I’m from Earth.” She hoped that would satisfy this very large, very heavy creature so that it didn’t decide to eat her or trample her or do something equally unpleasant.

Disintegrating any presumptions Jasmine may have had, the black Pegasus shrunk its neck back into place and shook its head in a whole-hearted laugh that came out loud and full and containing an undertone littered with snippets of a horse’s neigh. “I cannot decide if that was clever or foolish. Mortal child, what is your name?”

Jasmine smiled, trying to contain a nervous giggle. “Jasmine,” she said.

The black Pegasus bowed its head and curled its front leg, similar to how Swift bowed to Fragmaroginog outside the moat. “I am Enkaiein,” it said before it straightened and folded its wings so they fit flat on its back. Jasmine couldn’t figure out how that was anatomically possible, but this world was already crazy enough so she didn’t bother questioning it. “What do you seek in the Hall of Truth?”

“A mirror,” Jasmine said, wondering why something so simple and taken-for-granted in her world was such a hassle to find here in Castle Albreton. “I guess I just want to see if this dress looks as ridiculous as it feels.” The cloth felt almost nonexistent on her skin and Jasmine had frequently pulled at it to make sure it was still there. She felt more exposed than she was comfortable admitting.

“Only a mirror? Surely you haven’t come here seeking something so commonplace? There are plenty about the castle.”

At that, Jasmine wondered why Mythos had brought her to this hall. Setting that thought aside, she inquired, “Well is there one here? Or I dunno. Just something to let me learn more about this place?” The words had tumbled out of her mouth before Jasmine even realized what she was asking.

“Hm,” said Enkaiein and extended one wing from his back in order to point to the door, “Your mirror and your answers you will find not in here, but deep in the circle surrounding the castle outside.”

Jasmine hadn’t remembered any circle around the castle. There was the outer wall around the entire kingdom, but nothing of the sort surrounding the castle itself. She looked at Enkaiein as if pleading for the answer to a riddle. When he tilted his head to the side and flicked an ear in her direction, she finally asked, “But there isn’t a circle around the castle. And even if there was, what would it be for?”

“Protection,” said Enkaiein, “It is a circle as seen from the Singers’ eyes, not obvious from a Flatlander’s view.”

“The moat?” Jasmine almost whacked herself for missing that the first time. Hearing herself say it made it seem so obvious. A circle around a castle was practically the definition of a moat. “But who are the Singers?”

“You ask many questions, Jasmine. I suggest you put that curiosity to use.”

Before Jasmine could ask anything more, Enkaiein hissed and sizzled, boiling into a jet black liquid before her. Jasmine would’ve run to him, would’ve made sure he was okay, but she found herself standing beside the moat with a nauseous feeling and a moldy smell that threatened to make her vomit. Her mouth tasted like fermented berries and her eyes stung something awful.

After taking some time to let her stomach settle, Jasmine looked down at the black waters of the moat, so silent and void of any ripples or waves. Her reflection stared back at her, dull in color but nonetheless perfectly defined. The dress flowed off of her like a stream of midnight blue sparkling stars, form-fitted via darker blue strings in the waist and shoulders but loose and swooping everywhere else. The sleeves widened as they looped over her arms and that deep blue color faded to a sheer gray where the ends of the sleeves frayed, making her wrists appear tiny and delicate. Jasmine couldn’t believe how good she looked. She’d worn tomboyish clothing or riding gear all her life and surprisingly to her, this was a welcome change. She twirled around to see the back, feeling only the slightest caress of fabric shift over her form. It was equally ornate and made her feel slender.

Jasmine was so caught up in the loveliness of the dress that it took her a while to notice she didn’t have any shoes. She lifted up the bottom of her dress to see her bare ankles and half her toes gripping the shimmering white grass while the others wiggled up and down, grasping at the prickling crimson weeds that sprouted like dandelions between the white strands.

“Well, I guess I should get myself some sort of footwear, huh?” Jasmine mumbled to herself. But as she turned to return to the castle, something stopped her. For one thing, she was on the wrong side of the moat and didn’t know the magic word to get across. The other was the way her reflection glowered at her in the corner of her eye and then went back to complete innocence if she looked at it point blank.

Unable to stop her curiosity, Jasmine knelt by the water’s edge and tried to stare past her reflection, to refocus her eyes and see if there was anything swimming in the moat, anything that could’ve caused such a shift in the way she looked. Perhaps a fish had swum close to the surface and rippled the water in just the right way to creep Jasmine out. But there weren’t any fish. Not one, anywhere. The utterly stationary water, eerie silence, and absence of wind served only to amplify Jasmine’s growing paranoia.

Then a foreign word sung in an impossibly high voice rang from above and something burst through the water’s surface to coil around Jasmine. Before she knew it she was splashing and kicking, being pulled down to the bottom by a giant red eel with three purple fins wrapped around her legs and left arm. Somehow the eel’s face seemed halfway sentient, intelligent and angry and hungry. It was a beast bordering on insanity and Jasmine kicked it as hard as she could and swam faster than she ever thought possible at the dim light leaking down from above. The eel sunk out of view, the only sign it ever had been there a few foaming bubbles from the depths below.

Jasmine sucked in air when she broke the water’s surface. She didn’t waste a moment more in the water and instead of catching her breath then and there she swam freestyle to the edge of land, scrambled up the bank, and breathed in heaves until her vision was no longer a blur of water and red and foamy purple. She coughed and turned around, expecting to see Castle Albreton standing proud behind her.

What she saw instead was an empty dirt island in the middle of a lake the color of egg whites whose opposite shore wasn’t even visible in all its vastness. Jasmine shivered; she had no idea where she was and the only thing she had with her was her dress, heavy and sopping.

The door to the Hall of Truth opened wide and Fragmaroginog hopped inside to see the words To the Egg of Castle Albreton in giant haphazard letters seeping along the stone floor, dripping into cracks and then out again as if the ink itself had a will all its own.

Fragmaroginog sung a spell and Enkaiein reared in front of him, black wings spread wide and threatening. The words disappeared from the stone floor, receding and collecting into Enkaiein as if the Pegasus where a great ink-black sponge.

“You are not welcome here!” Enkaiein roared at Fragmaroginog, but the toad hopped up to Enkaiein determinedly passive.

Fragmaroginog spoke another word. A tiny glass bottle shimmered into existence and plunged deep into Enkaiein’s heart; the Pegasus writhed in pain and crumpled to the floor in a heap. His eyes became the embodiment of pain and hate. He did not let up his glare on Fragmaroginog.

“Oh please, an Evil Eye? You are old and frail, Enkaiein. Spells without lyrics are meaningless against me. Hold still like a good little Pegasus,” said Fragmaroginog. Then, with a hop and another splintering word-spell, Fragmaroginog removed the tiny bottle, now filled with slippery black ink, and left Enkaiein there to heave and choke on his back in agony.

The golden door slammed shut with an echo that drowned out Enkaiein’s scornful cries and Fragmaroginog hopped off on his merry way.